Remembering Well!

Remembering is an essential part of being alive! The better we are at remembering, the greater the chances we will survive and thrive. This is our refrigerator door in Koko. It is slowly being covered with magnets from our journey. When we started, we bought several souvenirs for our trips: stuffed animals, tee shirts, etc. But it was obvious that while these were fun, we would soon fill Koko with stuff. We had just been through two painful downsizings and were especially sensitive to clutter. Therefore, we started collecting magnets for the refrigerator. That was in July of 2022; our refrigerator is now over half full. What will we do with them when the Fridge is full? Likely box up them by year and start all over again! After that, they will be our kid's problem! For now, we can look at them and remember that life on the road is indeed a gift we are unwrapping one day at a time!

 

After leaving Idaho Falls, we stopped at a Rest Area where they had a trail for Hells Half Acre, a lava flow. This area has several lava flows formed when the thin crust split open very slowly, and the lava oozed onto the surface before cooling. This lava broke down and became the fertile, well-drained soil perfect for potatoes and other crops. This magic soil is essential to life in Central and Southern Idaho. The magic is not necessarily the lava itself. Instead, the lichen and mosses that grow on the lava make the magic. Lichen is a symbiotic relationship between a fungus and an alga that involves highly complex chemical processes, not unlike a miniature chemical plant. As they form and grow on the surface of the lava, they break down the chemistry of the rock, and the residue becomes soil. This soil is collected into low spots and joins the lava broken up by water and wind to become fertile fields for plants. The lichen comes in all shades of color and texture and creates beautiful designs on the black lava. Yep, this is magical! Life is magic, and we need to look no further than the oranges and yellows on the side of that lava flow!

 

After our brief stop at the lava flow, we went south and west to Twin Falls, ID. We checked in to Jerome /Twin Falls KOA and set up for a week. Our first site was a disaster. There was a significant depression in the back of the site that would make leveling Koko nearly impossible. Fortunately, the KOA manager worked with us, and we found a more suitable site. (There is a reason why I spend the extra money to stay at KOAs.) Once we were set up, we discovered that the trees overhead were filled with House Sparrows! Their cheerful songs and busy flitting through the trees made this site something special. (It took a couple of days to get used to the "birdy" aroma they provided.) Unfortunately, we are only steps from the Park Office, where ice cream is on sale all day. One of my lessons for this stay will be avoiding temptation!

 

This is one of our hosts at the site. This is an adult male House Sparrow in breeding colors. According to some birders, these birds can be found throughout the US and are nothing special. But these creatures are extraordinary. To start with, the colors and patterns of the Adult Male are beautiful. The rufous back and soft gray head and chest set off the patterns of brown and black on their back and wings. Their song varies from a cheerful chirp and chatter in the flocks to huskier calls when they take flight. They have adapted to nearly every human habitation in North America and eat virtually anything that presents itself. If adaptation is the key to survival, then these little birds have much to teach us about surviving in the changing world of the next 50 to 100 years. That learning begins with developing a healthy respect for who and what they are. Thank you, Mr. Sparrow, for sharing your trees this week.

 

Twin Falls sits on the edge of the Snake River Canyon. This canyon began when the ancient Snake River wandered through the fragmented lava flows. Meanwhile, historic Lake Bonneville was forming hundreds of miles away in the Great Basin. This historic lake, remnants of which include the Great Salt Lake, began when the fully enclosed Great Basin was filled from millennia of accumulated rains. Unlike the glacial origins of the Columbia Gorge, the Snake River Canyon was enlarged by a historic flood from this huge lake when it overflowed 18,000 years ago. The ensuing yearlong flood drained through the Snake River basin, making the Snake River Canyon broader and deeper. The ebb and flow of the lake over the next 3,000 years led to the further formation of the canyon.

 

Today, the canyon is 50 miles long, up to 500 feet deep, and a quarter of a mile wide. The Perrine Bridge crosses the canyon at Twin Falls. Evel Knievel, an Idaho Resident, attempted to jump the canyon on his motorcycle in 1974 only to have his parachute open prematurely, thwarting his stunt. You can see the ramp he built for the stunt on the canyon's edge in the background. A later daredevil completed the jump in 2016. But this canyon is more than a site for stunts. It includes numerous waterfalls, most of which have been drowned by hydroelectric dams. The visionary I. B. Perrine started the area's agricultural development when he planted crops in the canyon. He named it the Magic Valley because of its productivity. While the agricultural value of the canyon has lessened with increased use of irrigation above the canyon, it remains a popular tourist site, including being world famous for BASE Jumping.

 

This is a picture of a double BASE Jump from the 486-foot-high I. B. Perrine Bridge at Twin Falls. BASE jumping stands for Building, Antenna, Span, and Earth. This bridge is the only human-made structure in the United States that allows BASE jumping year-round without a permit. It draws jumpers from all over the world, and people jump off the bridge nearly every day of the year. (That is a sentence you do not read very often.) Local instructors help you suit up and jump! (Yes, people pay big money to do this!) We watched four people jump. Marlene did a video of one of the jumps that you can see on her FB page. After jumping, the drag shoot pulls the main chute from the backpack, and the jumper gently floats down over the river onto a landing strip on the bank. It looked like a peaceful ride from our spot along the canyon rim. But I can only imagine the adrenaline rush these jumpers must have felt. (Or maybe I can't imagine that?) It was a thrill to see them, and that was enough thrill for me.

 

As you likely know, we enjoy visiting county museums early in our stay in a new place. These museums offer a good overview of the area and often include interesting tidbits of local lore. The Twin Falls County Museum was no exception. Among the exhibits was this poster from the early 20^th Century advertising the Annual Rabbit Drive. Many homesteaders in 1904 were weary of battling the booming jackrabbit population, primarily due to the plentiful food offered by their crops. They started an annual Rabbit Drive. All available men, women, and children would gather to drive the rabbits into an enclosure. Once inside, the people would enter the pen with clubs and dispatch the critters as quickly and humanely as possible. It was a necessary, if brutal, method for protecting their crops. The drives kept the rabbit population down, but the rabbits remained prolific. (I imagine those kids grew tired of Rabbit Stew over the next week or so.) These drives were still held up into the 1930s until the dustbowl wiped out many of the homesteads. They were resumed in the 1940s but quickly faded as people's sensibilities about bunnies grew. I do not judge these folks for doing what they needed to do to survive. But it reminds us of the struggle these people faced in putting food on the table.

 

Next to the old schoolhouse that housed the primary collection was a barn filled with stuff that did not fit in the main rooms. Among the items in the collection was a blue Phone Booth with a phone, a B&W Television set, and this. Seriously, a microwave? History moves on, and those who remember not having a television or microwave feel the jolt! For me, history is not about the past. It is about our present way of seeing who we are as a culture. History offers insight into the things and ideas that have shaped our lives. The ice wagon across the aisle reminds us that we seek comfortable, safe lives. Ice boxes helped us enjoy unspoiled food. The telephone reminds us of how important it is to stay connected to one another, even if life carries us far away. The television speaks to our need to extend our senses beyond our immediate time and place. The microwave? I am still unsure exactly what this means, other than indulging our whims and need for an easier way to pop popcorn for our snack during the baseball game. Why do I love history? Because, when done well, it offers us a window into the soul of our life together on this planet. We all need to clean that windowpane regularly. This is best done by honest, humble remembering. Good museums help us remember who we are, lest we forget and wander into fantasy and propaganda.

 

As I mentioned before, Southern Idaho is covered with lava flows. These were not the result of violent volcanos or earthquakes. Instead, the lava would push up through the thin crust in the area and vent out on the surface. As the surface hardened, the lava would flow beneath the new crust, forming lava tubes until the flow gradually diminished. There are hundreds of miles of these tubes throughout the area. Many of these tubes have collapsed, forming valleys in the crust. Others would pool and collapse, forming deep depressions. But others would remain as empty tubes crisscrossing the field.

 

We had the opportunity to go into one of these tubes at Mammoth Cave of Idaho, outside Shoshone. This "cave" was a round tube through the lava. It was not lit, so we were given a LED lamp and set off along the path. Above ground, it was nearly 100, but it was a comfortable 41 degrees underground. These are not limestone caves with huge stalactites and stalagmites. Instead, the rock in the walls and ceiling reflected the multicolored minerals that made up the lava. Also, the intense heat of the lava vaporized many of the minerals and left a sparkling coating on the upper walls and ceiling. The picture shows some of the artistry in the stone. I have been through many caves, but this was the most fun. My camera and I painted the walls with light, and I clicked away, capturing shadows and rainbows of color frozen in the rock. I could have spent all day just taking pictures in that magical hole in the ground.

 

After lunch in Shoshone, we went to another lava tube called Shoshone Ice Caves. These are lava tubes but with a significant difference. Because of how the air circulates through the tube, the compression and decompression of the air create very cold conditions at 100 feet below the surface. It is cold enough to freeze the water dripping through the lava above. The bottom of the tube has 5-10 feet of solid ice beneath the catwalk. When the water drips on bare rock, it forms ice stalagmites, as pictured above. These formations were highlighted by artificial lighting throughout the cave. Frankly, the novelty was most of the experience. But it would have been great fun to have turned out the lights and used handheld lighting to see what we could see beyond the “tourist” lighting in the “cave.”

 

A young man from one of the ranches found this tube while searching for some lost sheep. He stuck his head in a hole and saw ice underground. He returned and told his family, who did not believe him, until they stuck their heads down the same hole. When word got out, people in town collected the ice for their beer. Soon, a businessman calculated the profits of expanding the hole. Unfortunately, between harvesting the ice and the increased air circulation from the bigger entrance, the ice-making stopped, and it became a mere hole in the ground. For several decades, the town used it as a dump. In 1962, the new landowners closed the enlarged entrance and tried different air flow techniques. They restored the ice caves. It has been a tourist attraction ever since. Once again, history has much to teach us about our future if we preserve the memories and learn from our mistakes.

 

These are the remnants of Shoshone Falls, once known as the Niagara of the West. But, alas, it is a Niagara no more! Old photos show the Falls extending across the exposed, lighter-colored rock. I can only imagine what this place must have felt like back then. But, like the no-longer Twin Falls site downriver, the industrialists decided they needed electricity more than a Niagara of the West. They built the dam in the upper part of the picture and started the generators. They also started selling the water to the farmers who expanded their fields beyond the Magic Valley. The rechanneled and reduced flow of the Snake River left falls with less than a third of what it had been. While this is still a beautiful sight, I lament the impoverishment of the spirit that these dams represent. In many places throughout the Pacific Northwest and Southwest, they are removing these dams and restoring the flow of these rivers. In every case, the bounty from the removal far exceeds the loss of electricity to the cities. Until we learn to take the cost of these dammed projects to the human soul, we shall continue to lead lives impoverished by our abundance.

 

We spent four hours at the Minidoka Relocation Center, more accurately called the Japanese American Concentration Camp, near Hunt, Idaho. This National Historic Site remembers the 13,000 American Citizens and legal residents imprisoned here during WWII for the crime of being of Japanese heritage. The exhibits told the tragic history of the place and recalled the painful scars it left on our American family. I encourage you to go there and let the people who survived life in the camp tell their stories. They are far more eloquent than I and deserve to be heard.

 

I found the remarkable resilience in their words very powerful. In the middle of the campground, the curators recreated this ball field. It was one of 13 in the encampment, built by the inmates to provide a semblance of life. One of these people's values was "Shikata ga nai," meaning "it cannot be helped." Some people called this resignation. But this is so much more than resignation to evil. It is evidence of the resilience of the human spirit to do the best they can until they regain control over their circumstances. The ball fields, sharing skills at building tables and chairs for one another, putting up makeshift privacy curtains in bathrooms and showers, and any number of shared activities made life bearable for themselves and their neighbors. The humanity of the inmates stands in stark contrast to the inhumanity and greed of their captors, the rest of the American people. Those first- and second-generation Japanese left that place and built or rebuilt their lives with little to no help from the rest of us. But they did not allow bitterness or anger to define them. They got on with their lives and proved themselves true heirs to the Spirit of 1776. In them, I find great hope for our nation. Our survival will depend, in part, on how well we allow them to teach us the meaning of being an American!

 

This is a screenshot from my phone of the intensity and track for Hurricane Hilary as it appeared on Saturday afternoon. It shows that it will be in central Nevada in the next couple of days with winds of 25+ miles per hour. It does not show the predicted 60 miles per hour gusts and the 4-6 inches of rain likely to fall on the desert. A bit of historical perspective; very few people are alive who remember when this happened the last time, 84 years ago. We planned on leaving on Monday for central Nevada but have made new plans. We will spend an extra night here in Twin Falls and allow the storm to move on.

 

The primary rule for our travels has always been “Safety first!” This is one of those times when the rule should serve us well. Motorhomes do not handle winds much above 25 MPH, especially crosswinds. Also, the flooding caused by that much rain in so short a time will cause closures and dangerous water hazards. Fortunately, we secured another night in our present park, where we are farther north, and the winds will be significantly diminished. We are on relatively high ground and sheltered among the trees, so we should be safe from the wind, rain, and whatever else nature may throw at us. We are doing our best, “Shikata ga nai,” given that it cannot be helped.

 

We have seen our share of hurricanes and tropical storms along the Texas Gulf Coast. I know that Hilary may veer off in the hours before landfall and fall apart before it reaches land. But, just like the 10-hour drive to San Antonio from Houston before Hurricane Rita, it is best to accept the situation and do what we can to be safe. As of Sunday morning, Hilary is holding her course toward a direct hit on Southern California and Southern Nevada. That calls for “Shikata ga nai.”

 

We have cut Nevada and Death Valley stops from our trip and will head to Utah, spending two weeks in Provo. Not sure what we will do, but that is how we wander. We will resume our planned itinerary in Southern Utah. Regardless, I am looking forward to cooler temps after the storm passes. We may even get to see the desert bloom from all the rain. Anticipation, not disappointment, marks my mood. Such is life on the open road. Such is the resilient life that is informed by well-practiced remembering.

 

I will close this week with a quote from the Herrett Center on the College of Southern Idaho campus. It is by Guy Gavriel Kay, a Canadian fantasy fiction writer.

 

“There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.”

 

I am glad you are on this road with us, wrong turnings and all. Be sure and check our Facebook pages for daily updates.

 

May the road rise to meet you, my friends!

 

Bob